


All Worked Up and Nowhere To Go

by misura



Category: Strike Back
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Post-Mission, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Scott did when they reached the safe house was punch the wall and yell, which was, Michael thought, probably about as constructive as anything else they'd managed to get done today.</p>
<p>Potentially less so, were the neighbors to complain about the noise. "Scott," he said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Worked Up and Nowhere To Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladydey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydey/gifts).



The first thing Scott did when they reached the safe house was punch the wall and yell "Fuck!", which was, Michael thought, probably about as constructive as anything else they'd managed to get done today.

Potentially less so, were the neighbors to complain about the noise. "Scott," he said.

"Fuck me!" Scott's eyes were wild. He was uninjured - they both were, which was good in the sense that being uninjured was always good, but bad in the sense that there was little Michael could use to snap Scott out of his current mood. "Fuck you! Fuck this mission!"

"Is that a multiple choice question?" Michael managed a weak smile. Scott made it easier to stay calm, in some strange way: Michael figured that between the two of them, Scott had the 'freaking out and expressing huge amounts of frustration' pretty much covered, leaving it to Michael to figure out what to do next.

Unfortunately, he rather suspected the only reasonable course of action currently open to them was 'sit tight and wait for further instructions'. Not really something Scott might be able to use to work off his frustrations.

Scott glared at him and for a moment, Michael thought Scott was genuinely considering hitting him.

"Look, I'm not exactly happy with the way things turned out, either," he said, raising his hands. Had they been at the Crib, he'd have suggested they go to the training room and go a few rounds - but, again, they were at a safe house.

"Call it what it was, all right?" Scott punched the wall again. This time though, there was a faint wince, after, like this time, he'd actually felt it.

"It was a clusterfuck," Michael said. "Possibly involving goats."

Scott sighed and made a fist of his right hand before relaxing it again. Done with punching innocent, inanimate objects that didn't even have to hit back to hurt him, then. "You know what? I think I actually saw a couple of goats. In the backroom. What the fuck, huh?"

"I don't think I want to know." Of course, now that Scott had mentioned them, it was hard to stop.

"Maybe they were dinner," Scott said, which was ... a fairly innocuous explanation. "In which case, guess what, buddy? We rescued a couple of fucking goats today. How's that for a sense of accomplishment?"

"Excuse me, are you saying they were ... when you found them?"

Scott grimaced. Michael grinned.

"Seriously, man," Scott said. "Fuck you. And dibs on the shower."

"All right. I'll see if I can re-establish communications with the office."

Scott stalked past him, already stripping.

 

Two hours later, showers had been taken, dinner had been unflatteringly compared to various inedible substances, and communications had not been re-established. Scott was still restless, or possibly he was becoming restless _again_ , after briefly having been lulled into a state of non-restlessness by a shower and a dinner.

The knuckles of his right hand were a bit red, but the skin on them hadn't been broken. Even in a temper, Scott was smart enough not to cause himself an injury that might hinder him in the field.

"We should get some sleep. Take turns keeping watch."

Scott shook his head. "Don't think I could sleep even if I wanted to."

"That's adrenalin talking," Michael said. Any good soldier knew how to snatch some sleep when there was time for it, no matter the circumstances, and for all his many other qualities, Scott was also a very good soldier. "So fine, you want to take the first watch, then?"

"I want to beat someone up. Preferably that fucking Vulture, but really, I'm not picky."

Michael considered letting it go. Three, four hours from now he might wake up to find Scott settled down, more willing to listen to reason, take a nap. "I know," he said instead. Scott was a friend, after all.

"Barring that, I just want something to fucking _do_."

"Maybe you should have grabbed one of those goats."

"Fuck those fucking goats. They probably didn't even make it out of the building alive."

"There's a bar at the other side of the street. Probably some women there." Given Scott's record in that area, there'd probably be at least one of them who'd take one look at Scott and decide he was just the man she'd been waiting for to take up to her hotel room.

"Fuck you. Like I could actually go there," Scott said.

"You could fantasize," Michael suggested. "Use the power of your imagination."

"Did that in the shower already. Twice."

"Too much information there, mate."

Scott shrugged. "You're the one who wanted to talk about it."

"Fine." Michael decided to let Scott have that one. "So. Who did you ... ?"

"No one you know," Scott said, a little too quickly. "All right? What the fuck is this, anyway? Are we playing fucking Twenty Questions or something?"

"I'm just curious. I mean, twice? She must be someone special."

For a few moments, he thought Scott was going to let the conversation end there. Michael'd have been more or less all right with that, really; Scott would talk if he wanted to talk, and if he didn't, well, then that was Scott's business, not Michael's. Some things, a man needed to keep to himself.

Then Scott looked away and mumbled, "Not a she," and Michael thought _oh_ , because that? Not quite what he'd expected to hear - not from Scott, definitely.

"I'm flattered," he said. It wasn't even a shot in the dark, really; it was more - well, a joke. Something to lighten the mood, let Scott know that Michael was okay with Scott apparently occasionally wanting to fuck another man without making a big deal out of it.

They were in a safe house, for fuck's sake, both of them needing sleep. This was neither the place nor the time to have a serious heart-to-heart about Scott's bisexual inclinations.

And then Scott turned his head and the expression on his face was ...

_Oh._ Michael wondered how he'd missed it - how he'd missed both of these things. The first one - all right, he felt that Scott had probably made a concentrated effort to keep that one under wraps. There'd been a _lot_ of women, a lot of stories, a lot of late-night conversations about body-parts not generally found on men.

"Fuck you," Scott said.

Michael considered suggesting they'd talk more about this in the morning. He wasn't sure what Scott read on his face right now - shock, possibly, which wasn't necessarily a negative thing, although Scott might have interpreted it as one.

"Fuck you right back," he said. "You chose to keep this - all of this, a secret, that's on you, Scott. You don't get to complain about people being maybe a little bit fucking surprised when they find out."

"Whatever, man. Did it sound to you like I was fucking complaining?" Scott asked.

Michael rose. "I'm going to bed. You can either stay here and wallow in fucking self-pity, or you can prove you're not a fucking pussy and join me. Your call."

To Scott's credit, he wasn't slow to make up his mind.


End file.
